


The Art of Sandwich Making

by Char (Deiph)



Series: How to Train Your Detective [1]
Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Authority Figures, Discipline, M/M, Multi, Size Kink, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-18
Updated: 2014-04-18
Packaged: 2018-01-19 20:24:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1482742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deiph/pseuds/Char
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jake had a thing for tall and powerful men, and now two were in his precinct. Basically, he was completely screwed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Art of Sandwich Making

 

Jake might have been the best detective in the nine-nine precinct, but even some things got by him. Little things. Like when he pushed back against his captain’s authority, it was actually his way of  _flirting._  Like how his sarge sometimes needed to pull him back from overstepping the line, and he  _liked_  it.

So, basically, he thought as he sat at his desk staring out across the precinct, he was well and truly fucked _._

He wasn’t good at being fucked. Well… that wasn’t quite true, he conceded with his trademarked lack of modesty and a small smirk. He was very good at it. It was more that he wasn’t good at being  _played_  and that was what he thought had started happening without his knowledge.

This was Captain Holt’s fault, of course. Had he not joined their precinct, and had he not been so damn infuriatingly unflappable, and so ridiculously stately and authoritative… Had he not been all those things, Jake would have been fine. He would have just had his occasional dirty thoughts about Terry instead, with his distractingly well-defined, indecently tall body, and he could have controlled it with some private time with ‘Little Jake’ when it got too bad.

But then the Holt came and there were two of them. Two men higher up the ranks than him. Two much more imposing men than him. Two of them keeping a careful eye on him every single day in case he got too far out of line.

 _Fuck_ , he thought again, this time with more emphasis. He shifted a little uncomfortably in his chair. He needed help. Outside help.

“Diaz…!” Jake had been leaning back absentmindedly swivelling his chair back and forth, and he caught her eye as he saw her come into the room. “ _DEEEAZ_.”

He was hissing under his breath now, trying to lure her over with unsubtle ‘come hither’ motions with his head. He didn’t know why he was bothering with the theatrics; no one was paying any attention to him which was usually  _exactly_  what he hated, but this time he was relieved. He was off his game, big time. Like, Major League Big Time.

“ _PERAAALTA_ ,” Rosa retorted back with the same level of hissed emphasis, perfectly coupling with the low lying homicidal stare she reserved for her favourite people. “What?”

Jake opened his mouth, paused as he noticed no words seemed brave enough to come out, and then shut it again.

Rosa rolled her eyes. “Yeah, that was worth coming over for,” she said, and stalked off before he could give it another try.

He rolled his chair forward and sat up straighter, intending to call her back again, but another voice distracted him.

“ _Jaaa_ key…”

It was a way-too-knowing voice, one that was coming from Gina as she grinned at him from her desk outside the captain’s office.

 _Fuck,_  Jake thought again.  _Be cool. There’s no way she could know._

“Oh, I  _know_ ,” Gina said loudly, smirking in that annoyingly satisfied way she did when she read his mind. “I know  _everything…”_

He gave her a casual, confused shrug, with an added dose of his ‘I have serious work to do so I don’t have time for your unprofessional distractions’ face. It was futile as they’d been friends far too long for her to fall for that. He cracked.

“ _Shhhh_ , okay!” he whispered loudly, waving his hands around to indicate that he desperately needed her to lower her voice. “Come over here.”

Her look of triumph bothered his inner competitiveness, but he let it go. Now was not the time for pride. Now was the time for solutions. Desperately needed solutions. His eyes automatically travelled over to the captain’s office and he caught the man staring at him, expressionless, through the glass wall. He felt a wave of heat flood through his face and he ducked his head, studying the paperwork on his desk.

“That’s pathetic, man,” said Gina sadly, as she made her way over to his desk and took a seat casually opposite it to block Holt’s view. “You’re a shell of the man you once were.”

“Tell me about it,” Jake groaned.

“No, you tell  _me_  about it,” replied Gina smoothly, with an unashamed stare.

Jake narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “I’m not telling anything until you tell me what you’ve got first,” he retorted, his inner cop taking the lead.

Gina gave him an approving smile. “Good boy,” she said. “You’re not as far gone as I was worried you might be.” A little sarcastic pout followed, but she meant it kindly. “Fine, I’ll show you my cards… then you can tell me  _all_  about the ‘Tall, Dark and Commanding’ sandwich you’ve been wanting to order for the last few months.”

 _Oh, fuck._ “That obvious?” Jake groaned, dropping his face into his hands as he leant forward over his desk.

“Only to me so far,” Gina grinned, and she reached over to stroke the top of his head to cheer him up. “But I can’t fault you that. I’d order  _that_  meal for breakfast, lunch and dinner, every day, if you know what I mean…”

“ _Gina_ _!_ ” Jake didn’t know why he was sounding scandalised. It was Gina, after all. What did he expect? “This is about  _me_  not  _you._  So, focus back on me and my problems please?”

Gina shrugged lazily in agreement. “Can do.”

Now he had her full attention, he wasn’t quite sure how to start. “Do you think I’m being played?” he asked eventually, deciding to get straight to the point. He could handle his inner fantasies if ‘inner’ was all they were, but the thought that he was actually being manipulated by his superiors…

“Well…” Gina started, turning to glance obviously over her shoulder in the direction of Holt’s office. Jake considered lurching across his desk to turn her head back to face him before the captain saw her staring, but admitted to himself that would probably just draw even more attention.

“Well,  _what?_ ” he encouraged, impatiently jigging in his seat. “’Yes you are’? ‘No you’re not’? ‘Don’t be stupid, Jake, of course they’re not playing you, it’s just your overinflated ego deluding you’? Which is it?”

The question of whether the captain and sergeant were playing him might be unresolved, but Gina was  _definitely_ playing him. She was enjoying this much too much to give him satisfaction that easily.

“Well,” she started again, casually picking a pen off his desk and twirling it around her fingers as she thought, “They do stare at you a lot. And I mean  _a lot.”_

“I know, right!” Jake interrupted, before a glance from Gina silenced him.

“ _But_ …” she continued pointedly, “that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. The captain stares at everyone. You know he only has one expression.”

Jake gave a quick shrug of acknowledgement. “Good point, but it’s not just that. Everywhere I go around the precinct in the last few weeks, one or the other is there. I’m constantly walking into a wall of Terry-shaped muscle, and the captain looms over me at my desk. And yeah, I mean  _LOOM._  He’s actually not that much taller than me but his all-pervading authority adds at least another foot or two.”

He was rambling now. He knew it, but Gina didn’t interrupt and just nodded sympathetically and pouted in that way she did where it seemed mocking and yet was actually sincere.

“ _And_ , you know,” Jake continued, the words tripping from his tongue as he tried to get all his thoughts out in one breath. “Holt called me ‘good boy’ when I handed my latest report in. ‘ _Good boy’_. I’m an adult detective!” He ignored Gina’s disbelieving look which he knew suggested he wasn’t the most mature adult on the Force so hardly could claim insult as what he had been called.

“Anyway, it’s just unnerving,” Jake said as his momentum left him, and he finished by waving a hand in the directions of the captain’s office and Terry’s desk. Gina raised an eyebrow at his choice of word. “Okay, it’s  _distracting_ ,” Jake corrected. “Anyway, I meant unnerving in the good way,” he added with a quick half-tilt of his head in admission. “I think I did anyway.  Is there a good way? I have no idea anymore.” He leaned forward across his desk to try his most appealing look into her eyes. “Help me, Obi-Wan. You’re my only hope.”

Gina continued nodding as she pondered his dilemma. There was a good half minute of deep thought before she spoke again.

“Yeah… so it’s like this,” she began, as Jake’s head began nodding in hope of a possible solution. “You’re basically completely  _screwed_.”

His jaw dropped a little as he regrouped. “No. What? No! I need a  _fix_ , that doesn’t help!”

Gina just shrugged. A flicker of well-honed suspicion crossed Jake’s mind that told him Gina would get far more amusement out of her work days if she could continue to watch him squirm than she would get if she helped solve his problem.

He really should have considered that before he took her in confidence.

“Sorry, Jakey,” Gina grinned. “You’re going to have to work out your problems like the big adult boy that you are.” She rose from her chair and meandered back to her desk.

Jake dropped his head onto his desk and groaned quietly to himself for a few minutes. Somewhere at the back of his mind he was vaguely hurt no one was bothering to check what was wrong with him, but this was the nine-nine after all. Everyone was a little bit crazy so why would he draw any special attention?

“Peralta. My office. Now.”

Jake shot out of his chair at the sound of his captain’s voice. He realised that looked too eager, tried to turn his dash across the room into a nonchalant saunter, and ended up lurching awkwardly a few paces instead.

“You okay, Jake?” Boyle called out, ever attentive to his friend’s needs as he typed away at his own desk. “Something wrong with your…back? Leg? Hip?” He paused and started at Jake quizzically, giving it longer consideration. “Something…uh, wrong with all of you?”

“Nope, all good, nothing to see here, back to work, there’s crime to be solved!” Jake shot back quickly in an overly chipper tone, realising he now not only looked crazy, he sounded it too. He really should trying thinking before talking. He’d never had to do it before, but it was never too late to try new things.

“PERALTA.”

“Sorry, Captain, coming!” he yelled, too loud, and tried to pull himself together before entering Holt’s office.

As he walked in, he saw a sharp look in his captain’s eye. That was a good and a bad thing, in his current opinion.

“Yes, sir?” he asked, overcompensating by sauntering over and sprawling into the guest chair. He plastered an extra wide grin on his face for good measure.

Holt stared him down. It was always unnerving as he never seemed to blink and that, to Jake, was just another sign that the man might be half-android. Was it weird that made it slightly hotter? He considered it, tipping his head to the side in thought for a moment. Weird, yes. But within the bounds of his usual level of crazy so he was still safe from the asylum for now.

“Peralta, I can  _see_  you thinking,” said Holt, interrupting his thoughts. “Don’t get me wrong, I like when you prove you have actual thoughts going on in that head, but save them for later or say them out loud. Which is it going to be?”

Jake could swear the man could read his mind sometimes. There was clearly no way he was going to say was he had been thinking out loud so a smartass retort would have to do instead. “Later, sir,” Jake replied with the grin still plastered on his face. “I can bask in my own genius uninterrupted that way.”

Holt somehow managed to roll his eyes without changing his expression, which was a trait Jake truly admired in the man.

“What there something you wanted, sir?” he asked, as silence started filling the room.

“Not yet,” Holt replied calmly.

Jake waited.

Waiting wasn’t his strong suit. “So… should I come back when you do want something later…?”

He hoped Holt would say no. He was enjoying the proximity, much to his shame. It was like waiting in the principal’s office the thousand and one times he had been called there for punishment in his youth. He really wished his brain hadn’t thought of the word ‘punishment’. This really wasn’t the best time to get an erection and he always had a rather pavlovian-like response to that word.

Luckily for him, a distraction in the nature of a door closing pulled him out of his thoughts. He twisted around in his seat to look over his shoulder and saw Terry had just entered the office, far too quietly, and had now also casually shut the blinds on the glass wall to give them all privacy. Jake felt his pupils dilate slightly. This was a little too close to a fantasy he’d run through his brain a few nights ago. He wasn’t sure his superiors were going to appreciate him sharing that thought right now so he kept it to himself.

“Sirs?” he said instead, turning his head back and forth to look between them and doing his best to appear attentive and innocent. “Is this a secret mission you’re about to give me, as I want to reiterate that I have already chosen my spy name and have a fascinating yet tragic backstory to really sell it.”

Terry hadn’t moved from the door and had an unusually focused look on his face. Holt, as usual, remained expressionless.

Jake filled in the continuing silence from them as he usually did. “Archibald Windsor, in case you’re wondering,” he rambled on. “ _The Bald Eagle_  for short. He’s a British spy based in the States with as yet undiscovered connections to the royal family as a tragic assassination two centuries ago led to him being cruelly robbed of the throne.”

Terry looked vaguely impressed. “That is a good one,” he conceded, nodding slightly to himself. “Useless for undercover work, but one of your better characters, regardless.” 

Holt just shrugged, still not blinking, still staring Jake down. “Do you know why you’re  _actually_  here?” he said eventually, once he was sure the silence had gone on just long enough to make his detective uncomfortable again.

“No, but I’m sure I’m about to find out,” Jake replied, settling deliberately back into the chair again to appear casual. The back of his mind was hammering at the front, waving around pictures of an impressive range of explicit scenarios that could potentially play out from his current predicament. He told the back of his mind they were all excellent ideas but could it please, oh dear lord  _please,_ save them for later when he was anywhere but right here.

“Discipline.”

The word seemed to come out of nowhere, and Jake was caught off-guard a moment trying to remember what part of the conversation they were up to.

He stuttered a moment before speaking. “Sorry?” He could feel himself start to flush.

“You’re here for discipline,” Holt repeated, almost casually, studying his face.

That scared Jake more than anything as the thought that his captain actually  _knew_  what he had been thinking was just too terrifying… and admittedly arousing… to seriously consider. The man was probably talking about a disciplinary board, he realised. Not that that was a better option, but it would at least make sense.

“Am I… in trouble?” Jake started, carefully choosing his words. “Is this about a case?”

“In trouble, yes. About a case, no.” Holt replied, giving him nothing.

Jake had been so caught in the force of his captain’s unblinking stare that he had almost forgotten his sergeant was in the room too. He twisted around in his chair again and looked up at the man. Terry just stared back at him, looking far more composed than he usually did, and slightly predatory.

 _Predatory?_  thought Jake.

He turned back to the captain again, starting to feel a little nervous. “So…” he tried again, giving his class clown act a try as a kneejerk reaction. “Is this a guessing game, because I’m all for that. Am I in trouble for… that thing with the glue and the donuts?”

“What thing with the glue and the donuts?” Terry asked quickly. Jake could now feel him glaring at the back of his head.

He’d only made it up but it had incensed his serge a little, which perhaps, Jake admitted, was what he wanted.

He really was so  _completely_ fucked up.

“Enough with the guessing game, Peralta,” Holt said before Jake could speak again. “You’re here for discipline. You will be disciplined. You need  _discipline._ Is that clear enough?”

Jake crossed his legs as casually as he felt he could get away with, as another part of his anatomy was suddenly trying to grow tall enough to peer over the desk and look at the cause of its interest.

“Um…yes, sir,” he said eventually, his voice a little cracked but he felt he was holding it together surprisingly well considering all his two-o’clock-in-the-morning nasty sleep-deprived fantasies were crashing around in his head in technicolour. “Crystal clear. What… are you going to…  _do_  exactly?”

Holt actually smiled. It was terrifying.

“You don’t need to know that yet,” he replied smoothly, his voice low and calm. “You just need to obey.”

“O-kay…” Jake cracked the word out, knowing the captain must see how black and wide the pupils of his eyes were, and how obvious it must be that he was trying to hide an erection. It was humiliating and ridiculously arousing at the same time. He clearly needed a lifetime of therapy, and he’d get right onto that. Later.

He dragged his eyes away from his captain’s gaze again and looked over to where his sergeant had been standing at the door. The man really did move quietly, he now realised, as he hadn’t even heard him close the gap between them. Terry was now standing directly behind him, his huge hands resting on the backrest of Jake’s chair.  _Oh_ , Jake thought numbly.  _Close proximity. Very close._

He tried to pull himself together for one last rally.

“Ray,” he started, deliberately calling Holt by his first name to be inappropriately playful. “Can I call you Ray?” He looked up at his sergeant. “And, Terry…” he added, continuing his ‘just us equals around here’ strategy to test the waters, but acutely aware it was only because he wanted to be told just how wrong he was about that assumption. “I’m sure we can resolve thi-“

“ _SARGE_ ,” Terry interjected before Jake could get any more words out. Terry’s large hands had fallen onto Jake’s slimmer shoulders and were digging in firmly. “You call me ‘ _Sarge’_  and while we’re at it, you call the captain ‘Captain’ or ‘Sir’ each time you address him. Understood?”

Jake gulped. Well that was absurdly hot for such a technically standard command. He nodded, not quite trusting his words, but then realised he was too much of a masochist for that. He wanted to say it, so he did.

“Yes,  _Sarge_ ,” he replied, his voice cracking slightly. He looked back to Holt. “Sorry, Sir, for not calling you ‘Captain’ before,” he added, for good measure, and nearly gave himself a premature climax in the process. Damn his lack of self-control. He was fairly sure he used to have some, but it wasn’t anywhere to be seen now.

He swore he could see a glint in Holt’s eyes even though he was now trying his best not to meet the man’s unblinking gaze.

“Apology accepted,” Holt said eventually, after a measured wait. A little nod of approval accompanied it, as though the first step in his training has been achieved successfully. Holt liked order and systems and manipulating people to get the best result from them. Jake was starting to see that he was now the captain’s latest project.

And when Captain Holt wanted to achieve an outcome, he  _did._

Jake suddenly felt a huge hand leave his shoulder and grasp suddenly around the back of this neck, gripping him just tightly enough to let him know just how futile it would be to try to break free. He gave a small jolt in his seat but had enough control not to let out a yelp of surprise. The smug micro-expression on Holt’s face was getting to him and he was now trying his best to play it cool.

That tactic lasted about a second longer until Terry’s hand started firmly guiding him into a forward bend right out of his chair until he found himself face down across the captain’s desk.

“Uh,  _what_ …?!” Jake exhaled in shock, caught off-guard as he reflexively reached his hands behind his neck to try to disengage from his sergeant’s grip. He earned a sharp, solid smack to his ass for his trouble. “ _ARGHwhatthefuck_!”

Still holding Jake easily down with one hand, Terry smacked him again, this time harder. “Watch your language in front of your superiors.”

Jake’s eyes were wide as he squirmed around futilely trying to disengage from the position he was being held in. A hot flush of sharp arousal shot though through his body as he did which only proved to him that he not only couldn’t but didn’t want to escape; Terry’s easy dominance was clearly all his traitorous mind was wanting to experience in that moment.

“Sirs! Sarge…!  _Captain!_ ” Jake blurted out, not sure exactly which one of the men he was trying to address, but at least he had the titles right this time. They couldn’t fault him on that.

“Yes, Peralta?” It was Holt who answered, and Jake strained his head back the few millimetres that he could move it. He just managed to catch a glimpse of his captain leaning forward in his chair, peering down with apparent mild interest as the scene taking place on his desk.

 _He’s waiting for an answer, the smug bastard_ , Jake thought suddenly. He’s actually going to make me say it.

“ _Fine_ , sir,” Jake said into the wood of the table, aware that his attempt to sound hurt was being dampened by the undignified position he was being held in. “I’ll say it. You’re… you’re…” He was stumbling over the next word. He had some pride left. Not much, but some. “You’re…  _spanking_  me!”

“I think you’ll find it’s Sergeant Jeffords who’s spanking you,” corrected Holt smoothly, adjusting his position to meet Jake’s eyes. “If you can’t even tell that then perhaps we need to institute even more remedial action than just disciplining you for bad behaviour.”

Jake squirmed again and glanced away, letting out a low groan of frustration. He usually hated not having the upper hand, as even when he appeared to be at a disadvantage he was smart enough to manipulate his way through any situation.  _This_ , though, he hadn’t seen coming, and his body hadn’t had time to react appropriately. And by appropriately, he meant, it could have done a better job of looking less like it was desperately enjoying this. His body was going to get a good talking to later on for betraying him like this. It was beyond embarrassing. And yet, damn it, still acutely arousing.

His ass registered another smack, yanking him out of his thoughts. He grit his teeth and tried to think through the burning pain blossoming across his rear.  _Be smart, Jake,_ he thought to himself.

“ _Wha-_  What are you wanting me to  _say,_  sir? ‘Sorry’?” he settled on finally, trying to speak normally as he breathed a little heavily into the wood under his cheek.

Holt leaned further forward until his face was only a foot from Jake’s. “You don’t need to say anything,” he replied matter-of-factly. “You just need to be intelligent enough to realise the significance of some statements I’m about to make to you.”

Jake nodded along or at least tried to but Terry’s hand was  _ridiculously_  big and strong and he achieved not a lot more than having a thumb dug into the side of his throat for his efforts. “Okay, I’m listn–  _OwDAMMITargh SARGE!_ “

“Terry has a job to do,” Terry replied smugly, referring to himself in the first person as he liked to, while raising his hand back up after hitting Jake’s already painful ass. “Don’t interrupt him.” There was an edge to his voice, like he was daring Jake to interrupt.

Jake was quickly getting the impression Terry had been waiting a  _long_  time to install some discipline in his behaviour and was pleased to have a captain who was of like mind.

Holt brought their attention back. “Peralta. Just a few things to consider while you’re in your current predicament.” He paused for what seemed to be dramatic effect. It worked. “Firstly, you’re not good at following commands. Secondly, you’re not good at following rules. Thirdly, you still aren’t wearing a tie.”

“Seriously, the  _tie,_  sir?” Jake shot back rapidly before his mind had the chance to query the wisdom of retorting. “That’s  _still_ bothering you?”

Holt gave a small nod of instruction to Terry. Jake had to grit his teeth and a hiss escaped his lips at the not-unexpected smack that was inflicted on him. His ass felt like it had been hit with a car. Terry could hit  _hard._

Jake took a short moment to calm his now ragged breathing. He could feel his eyes starting to water in response to the pain, but the more-than-humiliating tightness of his jeans was somehow compelling his attention even more. He spent another second running through a series of creative expletives directed at his hormones. For the life of him, he couldn’t pinpoint the exact dysfunctional moment in his childhood that would justify him wanting this like,  _fuck, so badly._

He was half aware that he still had one hand twisted up above him grabbing hold of Terry’s wrist, as though he stood any chance of removing it from his neck. It seemed to give him leverage to hold on, though, or else he just liked feeling how strong the muscles roped through his sergeant were. His other hand was gripping uselessly at Holt’s desk, having knocking a pile of neatly stacked papers over when it had spasmed the last time he was hit.

“So, Peralta,” said Holt, letting the moment settle and looking slightly disapprovingly upon the mess that Jake had created of his desk. “Any comments or observations you’d like to say in return?”

Jake got the impression this was his chance to say the right thing. He fought his natural instinct to deliberately do the opposite. His ass would never forgive him if he didn’t show at least some self-preservation.

“Funny you should ask,” he began, letting out a quiet, inadvertent moan as he squirmed and accidentally pushed his groin a little too pleasurably against the edge of the desk.

If Holt noticed, he didn’t comment.

“I was thinking,” Jake continued on quickly, “that I could perhaps put some work into following commands better, following rules better, and I could maybe even grow to love ties.”

“Just apropos of nothing,” Terry said, apparently to himself, “Ties make really effective leashes. I had a dog once and he broke his usual one and I had to improvise.”

There was a short moment of silence as Captain Holt smiled knowingly at his sergeant’s none-to-subtle manipulation of their detective.

“ _For fuck’s sake…”_  Jake muttered quietly, letting his eyes close as a strong wave of heat flooded through him and his imagination grabbed hold of his sergeant’s offering and ran with it. They were definitely both playing him. He hadn’t been sure how invested Terry was in tormenting him until that point, but that comment basically answered it.

Slowly taking a deep breath and gulping his throat back into action so he could trust himself to speak again, Jake let out a sigh. “So it’s going to be like that then, is it?” he said, alluding to them knowing his apparently not quite secret triggers. “Okay, well I suppose  _now you put it like that_  I can see the attraction to ties but I’m not just going to wear one like some…”

“Dog?” Terry asked, faking an innocent voice, but not trying that hard.

“Yes.  _Dog._ ” Jake replied, stubbornly feeling he should at least put a little effort into not so openly admitting to his perversions.

“You’ll wear a tie and you’ll like it,” Holt said in his ‘mess with me at your peril’ voice.

Jake considered his situation. He was still being held bent over the captain’s desk, still at risk of being smacked again upon an already painful ass, and they’d basically already called his bluff when it came to knowing how to get him to do what they wanted.

“I’ll wear a tie,” he grudgingly surrendered. “I’ll warn you that that might be a garishly coloured one that is inappropriate for a police station, but I will wear one.”

“That’s fine by me, Peralta,” Holt replied, his face still close to Jake’s. “That just gives me more opportunity to continue ‘refining’ your behaviour.”

 _Crap_ , thought Jake. He’d been outsmarted on that one. He decided not to argue as he really wasn’t fooling anyone anymore.

Holt seemed to acknowledge a silent victory in that moment, and gave a nod to Terry. The sergeant pulled back the hand he had gripped around Jake’s neck to raise him into a standing position again.

Jake said nothing but was painfully aware of his now rather obvious erection. Holt met his eyes, then swept his gaze down and back up Jake’s body. The expression he had after he was done clearly said ‘Now you  _know_  I know’.

Jake flushed bright crimson. He was vaguely surprised he’d managed to hold it back that long.

Terry still had his hand on the back of Jake’s neck and the warm feeling of each large finger pressed against his skin was still… _distracting._  It was frustratingly satisfying being controlled that way, and though it hadn’t yet ended, Jake’s mind was already supplying him with suggestions of how to infuriate his captain to  _just_  the right level to encourage it happening again.

“I’ve instructed Sergeant Jeffords to keep a personal watch on you from now on,” said Captain Holt. “You should be aware that he is authorised to exact discipline as he sees fit.”

“ _Oo_ -kay, understood,” Jake replied, still vaguely dazed with a low-lying but persistent case of lust. “Sir. Captain. Got it. Understood.” He cringed as the lack of eloquence to his reply. His brain hadn’t quite kicked into gear again.

Holt seemed to realise the reason for his detective’s stumbled answer and let a barely-there smile of satisfaction flicker across his face.

“Sergeant Jeffords will involve me if he thinks it necessary,” Holt continued, “and we will deal with you in the privacy of my office and we will take however long it takes for me to be assured that you have learned your lesson.”

Jake’s inner rebel kicked up just for the sheer masochistic fun of it. “You’re doing this deliberately, aren’t you, Captain. Using your words like that. Don’t think I don’t know that you know that when you say things like  _that_ …” It wasn’t the clearest of hanging sentences but Holt got the point.  

The captain gave one of his almost-smiles, a little shark-like in nature. “I can’t imagine what you’re referring to, Detective,” he replied. “Now do you understand the terms of our new…arrangement?”

He stared unblinkingly until Jake caved.

“ _Yessir_ ,” Jake mumbled eventually, surrendering to the – admittedly arousing – inevitable. He heard Terry give a quiet but approving grunt behind him.

“Back to work then, Peralta.”

Jake felt the grip on his neck loosen and he turned around to face his sarge. Or his sarge’s expansive pectorals, as was the case due to their height difference. The man was still towering over him only inches away and there was a long second where Jake tilted his head back a little to look Terry in the eyes. There was a moment of unspoken acknowledgement that Jake had every intention of testing his sarge’s patience, and that Terry would in turn be inflicting a world of retaliatory punishment on his ass.

The moment ended and Terry stepped back just enough to let Jake pass.

Well that was truly terrifying, Jake thought as he exited the captain’s office and returned awkwardly to his desk, his ass burning painfully as he tried to navigate the logistics of sinking into his chair. The fact his pants were still far more restrictive than they had been before he visited the captain’s office wasn’t helping matters much either. He really hoped the room full of trained detectives were too busy solving real crimes – or at least being self-absorbed in their own issues – to notice.

“ _Jaaa_ key…”

Jake didn’t even look over. “Say a word and I swear I will spend the rest of my life tracking down every animal print blanket in existence and burning them so you will never know the feel of true couch comfort again.”

“ _Ouch_ , now that was just uncalled for,” Gina pouted with a smug grin she somehow conveyed through her tone of voice. “I was only going to ask you if the first taste of your sandwich was as nice as you dreamed it would be…”

Jake rolled his eyes, still avoiding her painfully knowing gaze. “It was more an open sandwich with the second piece on the side looking on, if you must know,” he snapped back smoothly, not able to help himself. “But I’m sure the full closed sandwich will be absolutely  _delicious_  when I get to it.”

He heard Gina let out a short snigger, and it perversely pleased him that she  _knew._

He’d said it before, and he was sure he would say it again. His life at the nine-nine was so completely fucked  _up._

 

 

THE END.


End file.
